


A new life ~Fic has been abandoned!~

by SweetDreams828



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Lestrade, BAMF Mycroft, BAMF Sherlock, Explicit rating for later chapters, Gen, Injury Recovery, M/M, Multi, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, more to come as chapters are added, terrible at tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetDreams828/pseuds/SweetDreams828
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John can't move on with his life so he decides to end it, but Moran is full of surprises. Being shot and almost killed is bad enough but when Sherlock returns from the dead can John handles the lies or will it destroy him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am terrible about finishing these stories but so far I have five chapters written. I will update as each one is finished and to my liking.

It took a whole month for me to discover that my gun was gone. Mycroft must have had his men get it before I got home on that day. Or maybe it was Lestrade. Either way they just eliminated one method of my suicide.

You see my dear Sherlock, I can't stand it anymore. I need you, I can't live without you. You were my whole life, before and after. I have no family left. My dear sister just died from alcohol poisoning. The only people I have left are miserable around me. So I’ve decided to come to you.

My gun would have been the optimal idea, quick, painless, little chance of failure. Moriarty proved that. Mycroft told me that he killed himself before you killed yourself. So what on earth could have made you jump?

Pills would be my next step, Mrs. Hudson had all of my pills in her flat and delivered the daily amount herself and ensured that I would take them, so if I wanted to go that route I would need to go out and purchase some of my own.

I would have to find a place outside of the flat to take them as well. I knew that Mycroft had the place bugged. So the park or a back alleyway, maybe even by the Thames. I pulled on my jacket and grabbed my wallet and keys and strode out of the flat. The air was dark and the promise of rain hung in the air.

It was a quick five minute walk to the nearest Tesco; I grabbed a bottle of sleeping pills, and some anti-nausea pills. The cashier was friendly, and wished me a good day. Yes sweetie it was going to be a good day, because today was my last day.

Outside the rain had started to fall gently, oh well the sky was crying for my last day alive. I turned to head towards the nearest park, when I got there; it was full of kids playing in the mist. My soul may be gone but even I could not do this here. I walked to the other side of the park and went to find a decent back alleyway.

I couldn't help but notice the black car that started to tail me two blocks ago. Mycroft naturally or at the very least one of his minions. I honestly didn't want to deal with them right now, and I knew he wouldn't want to cause a scene in public, so I ducked into the nearest cafe.

"Hello, what can I get for you today?" The barista was a pretty blond woman, before Sherlock I would have seen her as a conquest, but now she was just another face.

"Small black coffee to go please."

As I paid the door opened and in walked a tall man in a black suit. He stood behind me in line. As soon as I had my coffee and moved out of the way to leave he accidentally bumped into me.

"Sorry about that."

"It's ok."

 I walked out the door and went to the nearest ally to cut across several streets to loose Mycroft. Three blocks over I turned to another ally and dug in my pockets for the pills, knowing it wouldn't be long before Mycroft was hunting me.

Only one problem, my pills were gone, in their place was a folded up slip of paper.

No John.  -MH

White hot fury sang through my veins. I crumpled to paper and threw it at the wall.

"Fuck you Mycroft."

So now that the pills and my gun were out. There was always heights, drowning, plenty of cars, and of course violent muggers. How many crime scenes had he been to with Sherlock that proved that it wouldn't be an impossibility.

I knew it would be just a few minutes before Mycroft or his goons would be here to forcibly take me. I stood and walked back the way I came, turning left and right, I managed to loose myself in all the backalys.

When I finally came out, back to the street, I was right next to the Thames, no black cars in site, but plenty of CCTV cameras, it would be moments before that annoying git was here to take me off to some mental ward.

The road was empty of all moving cars, so that left the Thames. I could swim rather well, but I didn't want to swim. I wanted to feel the water fill my lungs and drag me under. Drowning it was then.

I walked out into the street just as a group of three men left a nearby bar, they were tall and thick, and very dangerous looking. These people didn't belong to Mycroft. Well so much for drowning; it looked like Lestrade would be the one presiding over my murdered body.

"Are you Doctor Watson?" The man in the middle asked, with a thick Russian accent.

"Oh yeah that's him. Moran was right; he is too easy to get to." The man on the left spat.

"But where's his protection? Isn't someone supposed to be with him at all times?" Asked the man on the right.

"Who cares let’s get this over with before anyone shows up. Doctor, nothing personal but were getting paid way too much to fuck this up."

The leader pulled a gun out of his jacket faster than I could turn and run, the shot rang through the air as the bullet ripped into my stomach. I hit the ground hard, my head cracking on the pavement, the world blacked out before me for a moment.

"Excellent job. Now let’s get out of here."

"Not yet we need to get rid of the body."

"And just where the hell are we going to put it?"

"Well dumbass there’s a bloody river right there."

"Will you two shut the fuck up, he's still alive. Doctor I hope you can't swim. If you don't die now were just going to keep coming after you."

The leader’s proclamation made me smile through the bone deep pain in my stomach. Blood poured out of the wound, staining the pavement more than Sherlock did.

"Nothing left....for.....me.....here."

"Well then count this as your one and only blessing in life." Said the man on the left.

"Shut up Yuri, Vlad help me get him up."

The two men came round my head and picked me up under each armpit while their boss grabbed my legs. The movement causing me to scream out in pain.

"Shut up doctor." Came the sharp command from my legs.

I couldn't reply, my breathing was ragged, each lung full pure torture to pull in. The men walked quickly to the middle of the nearby bridge and heaved my body onto the railings.

"Any last words Doctor?" asked the ring leader.

"Mica I don't think he can speak anymore."

"Shut up Yuri. Well Doctor Watson any last words of wisdom?"

Mica leaned down close to my mouth which was full of my own blood. "Sherlock.....I...will...see...him...again."

Mica let out a deep laugh, "Yes my friend as soon as we find him and kill him too."

What did he mean?! Sherlock had been dead for seven months now!

"He's still alive. He faked it. Trying to save you. Guess that didn't work out too well."

I struggled to comprehend what he said through the pain and blood loss but it did me no good, my mind was fogging over.

"FREEZE!" Lestrades voice boomed out over the bridge, momentarily shocking me back from the edge.

"It appears the Calvary has arrived. Run boys! Doctor it's been nice killing you." Mica shoved me hard, gravity taking over and pulling me towards the black depth below.

"JOHN NO!"

Lestrades devastated scream was the last thing I heard before I slammed into the icy water and my world went black and faded out.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might go back and make some minor edits later, nothing big! Though if you see anything that needs to be changed let me know!

"Gregory! I lost him! Get to the Thames! He was headed there; he's trying to kill himself!"

"What the bloody hell Mycroft! You were supposed to be watching him today!"

"Just go and be quick!"

Lestrade huffed out a sigh, "Get your people there too!"

Lestrade hung up and ran through the office to Donovan's office, "Sally code blue man, now, at the Thames!"

Sally jumped up from her desk and grabbed the nearest two officers, "Come on attempted suicide."

The group of four ran out of New Scotland Yard, into their cars and screeched off to the scene, fully expecting to find John standing on the bridge; none of them were ready to see the three men holding John's heavily bloodied body on the railing getting ready to push him over.

Mycroft and his team screeched to a halt just as Lestrade and Donovan jumped out of their car running towards the bridge.

"FREEZE!" Lestrade shouted, gun pointed at the preps. The tall man said something to John then turned his head and smiled before shoving John over.

"NO JOHN!" Lestrade screamed out in panic as John's body hit the water and went under. Three shots rang out and the preps fell to the ground, darts in their necks, unconscious.

"John!" Lestrade let out the cry as he ran straight to where John went over and jumped in.

The cold water shocked his system, momentarily freezing his brain, his lungs.

Fuck no time for this! Get to John, get to John. Where the hell did he go? Just up ahead, the water is red. It must be John. Lestrade pushed himself harder to catch John. He grasped his limp unconscious body, around the chest and swam up, breaking the surface. He hungrily sucked in lung full after lung full of air pulling John's slack body against his as he swam for the shore line which thankfully had EMT's standing by.

John's body was placed on a stretcher, a gushing hole in his stomach where he was shot, his skin icy blue. His chest was heartbreakingly still, not breathing. The EMT's immediately started performing CPR on him, running to the waiting ambulance.

"Keep me posted!" Lestrade shouted, as a second ambulance pulled up to the scene to remove the three perps.

Mycroft came down the bank carrying a blanket which he draped over Lestrades shoulders before pulling him into a tight hug.

"I thought you said this was a simple suicide."

"Apparently not. It seems that we've missed something huge. Either way this is a government case now."

"Do you think John will live? The man has suffered too much he better not die on us now."

Mycroft clutched Lestrades hand all the way up to the awaiting ambulance where the three men were loaded on to stretchers before being placed in the back of a black van.

"I'm fine Mycroft. I just need to rinse off and change clothes and get to the hospital to check on John."

"Your skin is like ice Gregory and you are shivering uncontrollably. You are going to be checked out or I will make you."

The two men stared at one another for a full heated moment before Lestrade nodded his head in ascent.

"You are to get straight to the Hospital to check on John or send Anthea, and I want a full update on those men by the time that I am released."

Mycroft looked him over and nodded, "Anthea will go to the hospital, and I will be questioning three dead men."

They embraced a moment before Lestrade jumped into the ambulance, Mycroft watched as it drove off with his other half in the back.

 

It took less than forty minutes for me to get cleaned and cleared to go. I made my way up to surgery and was lead into a private waiting room where Anthea was going at her phone.

"Ah Detective Inspector, good to see you're in good health."

"Cut the crap Anthea how is he?"

"In surgery, he lost about four and a half pints of blood, went into shock, and has a hole in his intestines which is being repaired but the doctors are hopeful at this stage."

I nodded as she continued to type away on her Blackberry.

"So what do we do now?"

"Mr. Holmes is still interrogating the suspects and Mrs. Hudson and Ms. Hooper have all been removed to a private residence. He also says that you are to go nowhere and you will be taking a holiday for a while and that you are not to argue."

"Not worth me arguing is it?" I inquired with a sigh.

"Not at all."

We sat together in silence while we waited, her eyes never left her phone. It's amazing she hadn't developed carpal tunnel. I took out my phone checking through emails for something to do.

We have a massive problem. You are not safe. You will be brought back to my estate. -MH

And no arguments. -MH

I let out a stream of unintelligible grumbles; of course he would be paranoid.

"Were to leave here immediately." Anthea spoke up from the silence.

"No. I won't leave John."

"He's going to be brought to the estate as soon as he's able to be moved. We have more than enough resources there to take proper care of him."

My phone dinged, I ignored it.

"And if the unthinkable were to happen? If he were to die alone?"

"He would die in the operating room not in here."

My phone dinged again, damn it Mycroft.

You have to trust me. John will be fine. We can handle him here. -MH

GREGORY YOU HAVE TO LEAVE NOW OR I WILL HAVE MY MEN TAKE YOU. -MH

"Please Detective Inspector, if he felt that your very life wasn't in immediate danger he wouldn't ask." Anthea spoke with such assurance that all the fight left me.

"Mycroft you better be right. Anthea lead the way."

The door opened and two armed guards led us down to the doctor’s entrance where a sleek black car was waiting. Behind it was a black van, the driver was obviously military.

We sat in silence as we pulled out of London, Anthea kept at her phone. I always wondered what she found so fascinating with the contraption.

"Anthea, do you think John will be ok?"

She paused in her typing, and looked at me. A trace of fear in her eyes.

"I hope so. For everyone involved I hope so."

"Anthea, what do you know that I don't? Mycroft must have told you something about those men. Why John, and why now?"

She looked back down at her phone for a moment, smiled and looked back to me, "From what they have said so far, they were contracted through a consulting criminal last year, they were placed on standby until the order was given to follow up and kill John Watson."

"Moriarty?"

"The original contract but they all refused under torture to give up the name of the new contact but we have a fair idea who it is. Interestingly enough, it turns out that they were to go on after killing John, to kill Mrs. Hudson, Molly Hooper and you."

Of course. No wonder Mycroft was so upset. "I'm guessing that they have backup people incase this lot failed."

"Exactly. We’re not sure of whom the backup is but were positive they know by now that they are needed."

"So the three of us, four once John gets there are just going to hide until this situation is neutralized?"

"Yes. Mycroft will be with you as much as he can, but he must work."

"I suppose they don't give you time off for death threats in the government."

"No."

We lulled back into silence; I looked out of the window as Anthea went back to her phone.

"Do you ever play Candy Crush on that thing?"

"Beat it a while back."

"Of course you have."

"I finished all versions including some unreleased of Angry Birds as well."

I chuckled, relaxing back into the seat; I might as well enjoy the peace and quiet while I can. We road in silence for another hour before pulling into Mycroft’s posh estate, my favorite of all his places. I was looking forward to a nice hot shower in our bathroom, but more for an update on John.

I was fully prepared to see Mrs. Hudson and Molly already there, however in a million years I never expected to see the weak, sick figure of Sherlock Holmes draped over a chair in the living room, being stitched up by a doctor.

"What the ever loving fuck?"

"Pleasure to see you too Lestrade."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Lestrade have a chat.

"If you're going to punch me can it wait until after the stitches are done?"

Lestrade stood in the doorway, jaw dropped staring at the dead man in front of him.

"You're dead. You can't be here."

"Apparently I am not dead. Obvious."

Sherlock eyed Lestrade, deducing everything about his shock to the way he was familiar with the house.

"I see you two finally made it official. Lestrade you can come in here I won’t bite."

Lestrade walked up to the chair looking at the gash on Sherlock’s upper chest. At least six inches long and deep. His whole chest was covered in blood in varying stages of dryness. A bandage wrapped around his right wrist.

"What the hell Sherlock? Explain."

He eyed the silver haired man before speaking, "The day I jumped Moriarty had me cornered, three gun man trained on Mrs. Hudson, John and you. If I didn't jump in front of John's gunman then they were to kill you on site. That detective that quit with no notice two days after was the gunman assigned to you. Mrs. Hudson’s gunman gave himself up, and John's fled. I spent the last few months going all over the world to clean out the rest of Moriartys networks."

Lestrade sputtered, shocked at Sherlock’s sacrifice.

"I'm so sorry Sherlock, if I hadn't listened to Donovan and Anderson."

"It would have made no difference either way. It was just a matter of time. It's ok Greg."

"So did you finish? Are the networks gone?"

"No. John's sniper a Colonel Sebastian Moran was Moriartys right hand man and he escaped me, outside of Paris last week. I chased him back here to London where we got in a bit of an altercation this morning. Obviously he got two lucky swings in."

"But you caught him right?"

Lestrade knew without the conformation, "No. He slipped away. He's badly injured though, I know I shot him in the leg and I got a knife in his stomach. He should be easy to find."

"Did he walk off?"

"No while I was clutching my chest and trying to not die myself a van pulled up and got him in it. They tried to run me over but I got out of the way just in time."

Lestrade huffed out a deep sigh, "Then his men will take him to be treated. That's why they recalled the attack."

"It seems so. At least no one got hurt before we got you out."

Lestrades jaw dropped again. Surly Sherlock knew, didn't he? He turned to look at Anthea for conformation of his suspicion. She discreetly looked away, uncomfortable. Well fuck he had to know, who better to deliver bad news than a cop.

"Sherlock, how much pain meds are you on?"

"What are you going on about Lestrade?"

"He was just given a local antestic and some mild pain killers. Two more stitches to go." Answered the doctor.

He nodded at him deciding to let the doctor finish his work before he broke the worse news possible to Sherlock. The doctor finished and started to clean Sherlock’s chest when Lestrades phone dinged with a new text.

John out of surgery. He pulled through remarkably. They are bringing him to the house. Please tell Sherlock what happened. I think he will react to you the best. But watch for projectiles. -MH

We are still looking for Moran. I will be there in a few hours. -MH

"What are you not telling me Lestrade?"

Sherlock’s voice broke the heavy silence. Anthea gently placed her hand on Mrs. Hudson's shoulder and led her and Molly out of the room. No doubt she would tell them. The doctor finished dressing Sherlock’s wound and excused himself from the room.

"Lestrade. What the hell is going on? Where is John?"

"Joh...” Lestrade cleared his throat suddenly tight, "John is on his way here Sherlock. There was an incident earlier. You need to pay attention to me and stay calm."

"Lestrade I swear to God if you don't tell me what the fuck is going on I will murder you myself."

"Calm down Sherlock. I need to explain something’s to you and silence on your part would be incredibly helpful."

He waited until Sherlock nodded his ascent.

"When you died, John spiraled into deep depression. He wouldn't speak, wouldn't eat, and wouldn’t sleep for the first week. We eventually had to hospitalize him for a while, after he was released he went to therapy for a while but he said it just made it worse. He left Baker Street and went to live with his sister for a while. He eventually returned but he was a walking zombie. Two months after he tried to kill himself."

Sherlock sucked in a breath, a quiet sob escaped him, "How?"

"He was going to jump off of Saint Bart’s. Mycroft had his gun removed the moment you died; Mrs. Hudson cleared the flat of all medication. We had him under surveillance and Mycroft got a team there before he could jump. We talked him off the ledge and he just collapsed. He stayed with me for a while, and started to look like he was getting better after that. Then his sister went on a binge and developed alcohol poisoning. She died. He stopped talking again. He's been on suicide watch constantly and last night he left his flat. I don't know all the details about what happened but I got a call from Mycroft that he was trying to kill himself and that he had lost visual on him and for our assistance."

Sherlock let out another sob, tears streaming down his face. Under his breath he kept saying John's name.

"When we found him near the Thames, three men had him on the railing; he had been shot in the stomach. When we got there they pushed him over into the water. Mycroft's men dealt with the men, and I went after John. When I pulled him out, he was still alive, but severely injured. I just got a text from Mycroft that he's out of surgery and that he's going to pull through and be just fine. They are bringing him here now. Though I don't know where were going to put a man who needs to be in the ICU."

"The basement has a full hospital set up." Anthea spoke up from the doorway, shocking both of the men.

"Anthea, why didn't you tell me it was this bad?" Sherlock rasped out.

"It was our, your brother and my opinion that you would be reckless if you knew. We kept an eye on him."

"Apparently not or else he wouldn't have been shot!"

"That was partially your fault. You let Moran know you were still alive. And we had already stopped him earlier in the day. He had a bottle of pills from Tesco he was going to take. We removed them from him; he got angry in an ally and ran."

Sherlock glared at her seething with anger, both at himself and at her.

"I never meant to hurt him this bad."

"Sherlock it's ok. I promise you he will forgive you eventually but expect to be punched and hated for a while. Just never lie to him again. And man up and tell him that you love him."

Sherlock shot a glare at Lestrade, "I see you were the one to man up and say it."

"And look at the happiness that it brought me."

"I have to agree; when you two are together it's enough to make us want to puke." Anthea shot from the doorway.

"Anthea go flirt with Molly. Or don't. I don't care just go away. And let my brother know that I am going to murder him when he gets here for lying to me."

"Got it, go flirt with a beautiful girl and file away an empty threat. You boys behave. I will let you know when John arrives and is able to take visitors."

They both watched her leave the room.

"Greg, I am really sorry I had to keep this a secret."

"It's alright Sherlock. I'll punch you later when you are better."

"Apparently there will be a line."

"Who?"

"Mrs. Hudson has claimed first hit rights, and we both know John will get one in."

"I'm fine with third place."

"You are too good for my brother."

"And apparently your pain medication is taking effect."

They lulled into a semi comfortable silence and stared at the clock waiting, waiting for John's arrival, the arrival of Mycroft, waiting for their next move.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dun dun dun! Will John live or die!


End file.
